Wednesday, 7 June 2017

I'm not ready!

I‘m not going to lie, there have been times over the past few years, if we’ve had a tough day or if he’s bouncing off the walls, where I’ve thought, bloody hell, roll on September: he’s ready for it, he needs the structure. But now that it’s very nearly here, I have to be honest, I’m really, really struggling with the idea.

He has been my little shadow now for over four years and to think, during the daytime, he’s not going to be pottering around after me, nagging me for snacks, declaring his theories on life (today’s was that once heaven is full, the deceased will have to reside in jails) and just generally chatting away, well that just fills me with dread.

I think it’s the fact that there’s no choice involved; my little boy is going to be there Monday to Friday, rain or shine and there’s nothing I can do to change that.

Come September, there will be no more impromptu weekday trips to the library or park to fill the hours, which until now had at times, seemed endless and impossible to fill.

There will be no leisurely mornings where we stay in our pyjamas and where he has about three types of breakfasts, one after the other.

Suddenly time is slipping away, and where I once felt we had nothing but days and hours, weeks and months, now it’s leaping away from me and I can’t for the life of me hold on to it.

I know, I really KNOW that he will be fine, that he will flourish, that he’s not really going anywhere, that this will be the making of him and that he’s ready (even if I’m not) but come September, I imagine I will be that mum, the one trying not to cry at the gates as I wave him off to start his new journey, one that I can’t entirely share with him x


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